


Somewhere, Iowa

by NishkaGray



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Underage Kissing, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NishkaGray/pseuds/NishkaGray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam rubs his face, his hair wild. He’d asked for Dean’s jacket to use as a pillow and now he has a wrinkle in his cheek from the way it had been folded. Dean wants to reach over and try to smooth it out but he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere, Iowa

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : You may not copy, reproduce, distribute, publish, display, perform, modify, create derivative works, transmit, or in any way exploit any of my content, nor may you distribute any part of this content over any network, including a local area network, sell or offer it for sale, or use such content to construct any kind of database.

They stop at some small no name town in the middle of Iowa. It’s almost two in the morning, Dean is exhausted and Sam had been snoozing in the back seat for the last couple of hours. John leaves them in the car to go get a room and Dean shakes Sam awake.  
“Sammy, wake up. We’re stopping for the night.”

Sam rubs his face, his hair wild. He’d asked for Dean’s jacket to use as a pillow and now he has a wrinkle in his cheek from the way it had been folded. Dean wants to reach over and try to smooth it out but he doesn’t.

“Where are we?”  
“Somewhere, Iowa.”  
Sam chuckles, “I didn’t know there was a Somewhere, Iowa.”  
“Ok, smart guy. Let’s go. I can’t wait to lie down in a real bed.”

The night is warm and it smells like the ending of August, all summer with just a touch of fall. The motor lodge is literally in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by open fields on both sides, corn breaking the line of the horizon in the distance. The moon is full and Dean can see so well, the parking lot lights of the lodge seem almost invasive. 

“Wow,” Sam says and Dean follow his gaze.  
Just fields bathed in moonlight. He looks again, trying to see it through Sam’s eyes. He’d been doing that a lot lately, trying to see the things Sam sees. At eleven, Sam seems to notice more beauty in the world than Dean had even known existed. If he tried, if he really looked, Dean could sometimes see it too, the little things that awed Sam every day. And he can see it now. Not just empty fields of green but millions of small yellow blooms, like waves, folding over the gently sloping ground. Weeds? Or something that was planted? 

“Can I?”  
Sam is looking at him with the same excited gaze Dean is more than familiar with, that excited gaze Dean could never say no to. Sometimes he wonders if Sam knows this, if he could tell that when his eyes shone like that, Dean is incapable of refusing him anything.

He glances over at the lodge and sees that John is still inside.  
“Ok, but quickly. Dad’s gonna get mad.”

Before he’s even done talking Sam is running towards the field and Dean has to run after him, he can’t let him out of his sight. He thinks he’s too tired to run, the day had been long, he’d been cramped up in the car for hours, but somehow he is light on his feet and it feels good to stretch. Sam is fast, the distance between them is already growing wider and Dean speeds up until he feels like he has grown wings, like his feet are barely touching the ground, and he thinks this must be what angels feel like, drifting over the clouds. The flowers fold under his boots and a sweet, dry scent seems to rise up everywhere he places his feet. The moon is making the field glow and he feels lighter than he has in days. 

It’s Sam. It’s always Sam. If there was no Sam and his little bursts of excitement over things Dean never even saw, there would be no joy in Dean’s life. Every little bit of it was always tied to Sam. And he’s finally gaining up on him, Sam looks like he’s slowing down but he’s laughing too, Dean could hear it drifting back to him, echoing over the field. 

Then suddenly, Sam seems to soar for an instant, as if he’s decided that he will actually fly, and crashes down hard. 

In less than a heartbeat Dean is on his knees beside him. For a few moments he is terrified because Sam’s shoulders are shaking as his head is bent down. He takes his face in his hands, fully expecting to see tears, and sees that Sam is still laughing. 

“Did you see it Dean?”  
“Why are you laughing, you idiot,” Dean says, but he’s smiling too, and relieved.  
He can feel the crease in Sam’s cheek that the jacket had left there and it seems like the sweetest thing in the world.  
“It was funny! The rock just came out of nowhere. It must have looked like I was gonna fly away.”  
“It looked like you landed on your ankle. Are you hurt?”  
“No,” Sam says, already dismissing the whole thing.  
He glances around the field and inhales deeply. Dean mirrors him, focusing on the scents like he knew Sam was doing, the grass and the earth and the odd, faint scent of the yellow flowers. And underneath it something more that he couldn’t put a name to, something deep and sweet and soothing.  
“Isn’t it nice?” Sam says and Dean thinks that must be an understatement of the century.  
“We should head back,” he says.

He doesn’t want to go yet but John would come looking for them soon. He’d been driving all day, he was tired and he wouldn’t be happy that they took off running through a strange field.

He turns to Sam to ask if he needed help getting up and finds Sam’s mouth instead, soft lips pressing against his. He jerks back, feeling his face heat up.  
“What was that?”  
Sam shrugs, no trace of confusion or embarrassment on his face, “Just wanted to. You moved back though. Can I try it again?”  
No, Dean thinks.  
“Yeah.”

It’s the chastest, softest kiss of Dean’s life. It lasts seconds only. But he never forgets it. Sam’s eyes shining under the moonlight, his hair still mussed from sleep, the crease in his cheek. He locks it in his heart to keep through blood and fire and death that was coming. And only years and years from then, when he’s burning in the fires of hell, he realizes that it had been the only thing which had kept him alive. That Sam had breathed life into him that night, and that from that moment on, he’d belonged to no one else.


End file.
